Reichenbach travels
by Thehoundsofthetardis
Summary: WHOLOCK AU: Sherlock disappeared for three years after the fall to his own knowledge and John's, just biding his time else where. But what happens when strange things begin happening in London and Sherlock begins to remember a man named the Doctor, a blue box and aliens? Set three years after Reichenbach. K currently but will move onto M


"-We know some things cannot be explained by mere science, some things are stranger than we have ever encountered, John-"

"Sherlock-"

"-some things are scarily peculiar and I cannot even begin to understand-"

"Sherlock!"

"I've encountered various situations such as these in the past but I can't remember-"

"Sherlock! Shut up!" John yelled over Sherlock who was frantically pacing the floors of St Bartholomew's morgue, his black curls unruly from him running his hands through them in exasperation. Sherlock just stared wide eyed at John, as if trying to find the answers in his face but turned away again breathing deeply and leaning against one of the sterile work tops around them. John rolled his eyes. Sherlock got stressed a lot, usually because lack of case, but this time round because of his lack of understanding. Three people had died in the past two days due to key hole, and what Sherlock described it as, _robotic upgrade surgery._ John was just simply baffled by the whole case and how someone had managed to replace a poor woman's heart with some strange mechanical device, but Sherlock just kept muttering how he couldn't remember and, here, at gone 4am in St Bartholomew's, Sherlock was now literally frothing from the mouth in determination to _remember. _To remember what exactly John wasn't sure.

"Sherlock. You need to calm down. Let's just go home, have a cup of tea, go to bed-"

"Oh yes I'm sure you'd just love to go home and sleep wouldn't you John! A nice calming sleep!" Sherlock interrupted spinning back around from his distressed position bent over a counter top and throwing his arms in the air expressively. "John this case should not be bothering me in the slightest, it is no where near Moriarty dangerous nor should it be stimulating- and yet, and yet John, I cannot sleep, I cannot eat and my mind is just ridden with this dam repetitive sound, so loud I CAN'T EVEN HEAR MYSELF THINK!" Sherlock now shouted with an aggressive tone directly at John, there was pain and desperation in his eyes. He dragged his fingers through his hair once more taking deep breaths. John stepped forward cautiously.

"Sherlock, it's ok. I'm here. But you've got to stop lashing out at me." John said calmly reaching for Sherlock's shirted shoulder. Sherlock diverted his eyes from John's gaze and brought his hands down from out of his hair placing them into his trousers pockets.

"It's not _ordinary_ what is going on here John" Sherlock said slowly under his breath taking a step back away from John.

"Ok, Sherlock. But we need to get you to see a Doctor or something, you've gone a bit mad, hearing things and complaining as though we've got an alien invasion on our hands or something, it's just a little silly. Maybe it's due to the recent stress, I mean the press has been pretty tough on you since the grand reveal..." John stopped hesitantly and looked at Sherlock who's mouth began to open as though having a sudden realisation.

"Joh-" Sherlock's body suddenly had a spasm sending him heaving over a counter.

"Sherlock!" John ran to his aid as Sherlock's body jolted again and Sherlock crashed into John's body holding his arms to stay upright as he began crying out in pain. Sherlock let go of one of John's arms to clutch his head, white light blinded Sherlock as he grunted trying to remain grounded and make sense of where his feet were. But everything was just searing pain, bright light and _that noise, _that _'vworp' _noise over and over. What was happening to him? Had he finally gone mad? "Sherlock!" A voice screamed, but it wasn't John's. Loud footsteps sounded in his ears and a strange gurgling, gun shots, electric sounds and earth shattering blasts from god knows what and then came the images. Men un-zipping their skin and revealing tall green creatures beneath, metal men marching towards him, rounded machines with storks firing raging red beams at innocent people electrifying their bodies, dolls creeping past, space, and time, everything all wrapped into one, wonder and danger and a mad man with a blue box.

Sherlock's body hit the ground. He breathed heavily, a ringing in his ears and he choked back tears from his memories from the Doctor. He remembered. He remembered the Doctor and everything he had shared with him. But it was still blurry, so so blurry, and yet he was so eager to obtain these memories, these beautiful memories hidden in the depths of his mind.

"Sherlock! Bloody hell talk to me!" Sherlock opened his eyes that he realised he was squeezing shut. John was crouched over him and sighed with such relief when he opened his eyes as Sherlock smiled widely up at his best friend. "Sherlock you can't do this to me, stop- _falling_". John joked putting his hands round the back of Sherlock helping him to sit up.

"I'm fine John" Sherlock croaked his voice hoarse. John was breathing heavily and there was a look of panic still on his face. "We need to get you to a Doctor" John said in a concerned tone. "I don't know what happened just then". Sherlock moved so he was sitting with his back again a cabinet and let his head fall back and rest on it, a fond smile still on his face. He remembered. Briefly.

"You're right John. I do need to see a Doctor." Sherlock said opening his eyes and glancing around the room familiarising himself with it before lifting his now light feeling body up. Sherlock Holmes felt giddy, giddy with excitement, giddy with the knowledge that a man called the Doctor existed, although he couldn't make perfect sense of it.

"Sherlock, you look hysterical." John said in a serious tone stepping toward him to steady him from lightly swaying but Sherlock moved away from him.

"John, I remember" Sherlock chuckled. "I remember what happened." His voice broke as he went over the events in his mind, his smile fading into a look of shock. "John, I remember how I survived the fall."

"Sherlock, you already knew how you survived the fall. The extravagant plan? We need to get you to that Doctor-" John said in a confused tone, looking at him as if he was going crazy and made a move to grab at Sherlock's arm but again he pulled away, the smile creeping back onto his face.

"Yes John, the Doctor." The smile disappeared instantly again and panic had begin to form in the back of John's mind as to what was happening to Sherlock, was he having a mental breakdown? Finally all that thinking had caught up with him? But before he could even fathom as to what to say next Sherlock had grabbed his suit jacket and his long coat and quickly placed them onto his body and opened the door out of the morgue. His coat swished after him as he ran out of the room and to the staircase at the end of corridor outside. John ran after him quickly, yelling after him telling him to stop. He just kept running up the stairs, flight after flight until he burst through the top door and onto the roof. John panted as he too burst onto the roof after him, it peacefully lit the dim glow of the sun rising over London. And there Sherlock stood, on the edge of St Bartholomew's Hospital.

"Sherlock no!" tears began to form in the corner of John's eyes as flashbacks from that faithful day returned to him, the memory of Sherlock falling, and to his knowledge dying and leaving him alone for three whole years. Three years of hell without his best friend, three years of drinking and just wasting away in his own solitude, and now Sherlock stood back on that edge, facing out toward the city, his coat blowing in the early morning breeze. "Sherlock don't do it!" John pleaded his voice breaking and tears streaming down his face. "Don't leave me again, ever you bastard!" John ran toward the edge, his vision clouded by tears, sobs forming in the back of his throat as Sherlock turned around to face him. He stopped dead in his tracks, starring up at Sherlock who's face was still lit up smiling.

"Sherlock, please, don't go." John pleaded trying to reach for Sherlock's hand which Sherlock drew away quickly instead reaching down and touching John's wet cheek, his smile as broad as ever. "It's ok John." He whispered before letting go of John's cheek and falling backward off of the edge.

_Authors notes: Could you please leave in the review whether you would rather this go down the route of 11/Sherlock or Johnlock. It'll either be one or the other. _


End file.
